


Clandestine

by Quixotism



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Around second half of the series so you know what I mean, F/M, Not that disturbing, but probably still kind of creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1919001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotism/pseuds/Quixotism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you kill me, promise me that you'll gouge my heart out and eat it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clandestine

“Are you cold…?” 

There was a shuffle of bed-sheets. Her feet touched the ground and she was suddenly aware that she did not have crow’s feet and a raven’s beak. She touched her face with trembling hands and she realized she was still human. And there was relief, spreading down her toes warmer than cocoa. She dug her heels deeper and walked towards the bundle of sheets and flesh in the other bed. 

Slowly, she pressed his back gently and felt the bundle shift under her touch. Slowly, she peeled off the layers and saw the prince clutch onto his knees like a child. Her eyes softened as she draped her arms around his waist and pulled him closer. The prince stirred and turned to meet her face. Red, but not red eyes met her demon-dark eyes and she tightened her hold imperceptibly. The prince blinked at her sleepily and snarled, “Why are you here?”

“You’re cold,” Rue said, trying not to give leeway. He scared her and he knew he did. But even so, even when his hands are twisted and his face filled with cruel lines, she could not leave him. Even if he tore off her wings and slit her throat, she would be happy. He was here, right now, with her. Not with Ahiru, not with Fakir, not with the beautiful white swan. 

He was here in her arms. And he was cold. 

He pressed his face into her shoulder and she could feel his breath on her neck. Rhythmic breathing like drums in the far off distance; she relaxed her hold and slipped into bed with him. His arms circled her waist and she wondered if he would crush her bones in the night and leave her in the morning. Her nails dug into her palms at that thought and she closed her eyes. 

“Kraehe, Kraehe, Kraehe, Kraehe, Kraehe, Kraehe, Kraehe, Kraehe,” Mytho muttered darkly into her shoulder, “Why are you here Kraehe? Where is your nest? Where is your home?” 

She hissed under her breath as Mytho tightened his hold. That contemptuous look from before had returned and she was not ready to fight back. But still, his head was buried on her shoulder and she could hear slight erratic gasps. She clutched onto him and said quietly, “That’s a stupid question. You know I belong to you.” (and you belong to me, only to me, even if I have to scar your back, tear your face and kill you with my nails) 

She heard his smirk before she saw it, “But you are a princess and you’re supposed to love the prince.” (dictation, rotation, we follow this endless cycle of “once upon a times”)

Before she could control her temper, she yelled, “And so what?” 

Mytho’s breathing changed and she heard the voice she hated, “Rue…why, Rue…” (why, why won’t you go?)

She wanted to strangle him, throw him onto a bed of thorns and watch him bleed. She wanted him to beg for her, tell her how much he loved her no matter how much pain he’s in. She wanted his smile back, even though it never belonged to her, she lost it. (and in the red bath, she bathed his love, soaked crimson in her love and her hate)

“Because it didn’t matter,” she said quietly, bringing up her arms and tangling it in his feathery white hair, “Whether you had a heart, whether you hated me, whether you killed me, it didn’t matter. So long as I am here and you are here with me. So despise me,” Rue’s voice became louder, “I will not let you go.” (because I love you and you can only love me)

Mytho was crying. She felt the tears soak her shoulder and as if in penance for her cruel words, she stroked his hair lovingly. Yes, her mind was clearer now. It really didn’t matter if Mytho cursed her name, struck her with his sword or told her he didn’t love her. As long as he was here, the fairytale was forgotten in her mind. (what fairytale? What story? What time is left in her end for an epilogue by the master)

“Are you happy little slave?”

She kissed his tears gently and closed her eyes. This was the closest to happiness she knew she would ever get in a tragedy.


End file.
